Poetry, Pain, Storytime and Introspection

You know what the worst part of beginning to fall in love is? Well, really two things. The first is how fragile it is. You are right on the edge of something and you can sense it coming and maybe you slow it down, hoping you can control it this time(I’ve never been able to). But you also know that at any moment before you begin the fall, it could all blow away like candy floss in a harsh wind.

The second is that, while you try to guard your heart to whatever extent you are able, you know you are at the mercy of another person. And you feel the echos of the past, reverberating forward. All those times it didn’t work out.

And you’re afraid.

People who haven’t been looking for a while don’t know what it is to find and love and lose, over and over again.

Or if you remember, it is through a haze. Or maybe you don’t overthink it.(I envy you that).

But, I’m afraid. Not of before or while. But of the potential for after. I’ll do whatever I can to not have an after. Though, usually, there is nothing to be done that I’m not already trying.

I try to spit in the face of my fears. To do what I fear. But this existential dread at 2AM. It’s hard to face.